Ockham’s razor (also spelled Occam’s razor, pronounced AHK-uhmz RAY-zuhr) is the idea that, in trying to understand something, getting unnecessary information out of the way is the fastest way to the truth or to the best explanation.
I thought Occam’s razor meant the simplest of all competing hypotheses was true. Maybe the above definition means the same. Cut the fluff. I’m over here today making stuff up! The opposite of fluff cutting. Oh behave. I need to stop this nonsense. In the immortal words of Styx, I’ve got too much time on my hands.
Last day of my short vacation that I’d previously decided to waste in bed. This rainy day is the best for that kind of thing. But in between all this lounging, I overthink. Ugh 😑
Maybe I can channel this angst into my next short story. I got the dreaded rejection from my last submission but one of the panel members said if I had more poetry samples to send them! Of course now I’m blocked. I couldn’t write another haiku right now if my life depended on it. Oh well pretty sure there’s some trash TV calling my name.
Di is guest host for Melanie this week & for a little while. Wishing Melanie continued healing. Take a look HERE for the rules and ping back. Check out the other entries while you’re there.
1. Do you have family photographs on display in your main living room? We do. The entryway table. We also have two curio cabinets, one on each side of the TV. All with assorted family photos. But as I look right now, they’re from years ago. Been a long while since we printed & framed photos. My favorite is of B, his dad, and his brother at our wedding reception in 1984. The Dub men look good in tuxedos even when it’s end of the festivities & the ties came off. Except for the groom of course who continued through the torture of being in a complete monkey suit.
2. What was the best vehicle you owned? This could be a pushbike as a kid, your first car, a motor cycle, or something else. My 2007 Chevrolet Impala SS. Aka the Snoop Dogg mobile. Snoop was in their commercial that year. La-da-da-da-dah. La-da-da-da-dah. It’s the best because it was my first car that had heated seats & satellite radio. Made my commute to work much better.
3. Did you pass your driving test first time? Nope. Two was the charm. Who puts a stop sign in the middle of a parking lot as a “test” to wanna be new drivers? The DMV on S. New Braunfels, that’s who. Immediate fail too. The instructor said most people at least do a “California stop”. Me? I missed that there was a stop sign completely. To be fair, I was watching for other cars. I promise.
4. Does loud music from a neighbour or passing cars annoy you? Our neighbors are too far away that we can’t hear their music blasting & they can’t hear ours. As far as a passing car, that’s no bother because soon enough, you’ve passed on by.
Gratitude: What has made you smile over the last seven days? Pony. I took advice from my sometimes surly 34 year old son. He was positive though! And his words rang true. He used some choice examples to help me get over myself. I’m smiling now just thinking about what he told me. That son of mine. He’s a sweetheart.
Jim is hosting #SLS. The prompt is Underrated Deep Album Cuts suggested by Greg’s Blog. I had to look up deep cut & found this gem. Why Go by Pearl Jam. Writer(s): Michael McCready & Eddie Vedder. Raw & emotional, just like me lately. Getting it all out of my system.
She scratches a letter into a wall made of stone Maybe someday another child won’t feel as alone as she does It’s been two years and counting since they put her in this place She’s been diagnosed by some stupid fuck and mommy agrees
Why go home? Why go home? Why go home?
She seems to be stronger but what they want her to be is weak She could play pretend, she could join the game, boy She could be another clone Ooh! Ah! Ah yeah
Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? What you taught (Why go home?) Put me here (Why go home?) Don’t come visit (Why go home?) Mother, sing me (Why go home?)
Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? What you taught me (Why go home?) Put me here (Why go home?) Don’t come visit (Why go home?) Mother, mother, yeah (Why go home?) Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why go home? Why!
I’ve had a rollercoaster week, mostly self-induced but one of these days I WILL be proven right!! LOL. Until then worry takes away today’s peace & does nothing about tomorrow’s woes. I saw that on a sign in front of the Boltville Presbyterian Church many years ago. It struck me so much so that I turned around and went into the parking lot to stop & write it down. This was before cameras in cell phone days. I had a notepad & pencil in my glovebox to write down my mileage whenever I filled up the tank to calculate my miles per gallon. Now my car does that for me. Will miracles never cease?!?! I promised myself I would take the words to heart & STOP worrying but nope. Look up worry in the dictionary & you will find ME, Jilly J-Dub, with a big ole faux smile on my face. Oh well, not to worry. Let’s instead commence with the roll call.
I remembered later in the day yesterday that 8/20/22 is B’s Uncle Pat’s birthday. Pat is B’s mom’s youngest brother. He has special needs & every year a huge fuss was made on his day bringing in extended family far & wide. After G-Ma Sally passed, the siblings still had a big to-do just without all the cousins. Guess they wanted to spare us but such a shame because seeing each other for whatever the reason was always a treat. Now we’ve scattered like dandelions. And Uncle Pat isn’t doing well, in a nursing home, mostly paralyzed. My heart hurts sometimes y’all. B? He says of course he wishes his uncle was better but he doesn’t miss all that other stuff. Apparently I’m all he needs or some such nonsense. I joked with him that being his everything was way too much pressure & he should go find his own friends. LOL. Gotta laugh people, life is WAY too short otherwise.
Hmmm, August 20th. There is something significant about this date that I am forgetting about. I feel it back there somewhere in the recesses of my brain. I wonder if what happened on this day is too traumatic to remember. Maybe? Hmmm again. Oh well. Time to get along with the task at hand. #SoCS in the house where the lovely Linda G Hill writes & I copy paste. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “key.” Use it as a noun, a verb, or use it metaphorically. Have fun! To join in, HERE are the rules & pingback.
I love the word key and immediately think what about skeleton key. I can surely do something with that right? Followed by what about a tiny metal key used to lock my childhood diary? That might be good too. Or what about the key to enlightenment? Naw, that sounds too much like homework.
On Monday, I’m getting my first ever tattoo. I delayed this experience because mom wouldn’t stand for it, but she has been gone over 24 years & I’m a grown ass woman.
Yep you heard me. Haha! I am!! A grown ass woman!!! Even if I do not always behave that way. For my tattoo, I considered a key. A metaphorical key & went to town looking at ideas on the web. Lots of talented people out there folks. But then I remembered Lulu drew us hearts.
Then my new friend posted her brave artwork on Twitter which follows:
It’s a half baby heart with a momma heart that displays so much emotion I almost need to look away but I can’t look away at the same time.
However, decisions were already made to get a heart on my sleeve, the one Lulu made for us. That is the key to enlightenment. Or my awakening if you will. Instead, with her assistance, some modifications have been made because sweet Lulu knows the significance of the half baby by momma heart. My sweetest sensitive soul of a daughter just gets what I’m going through even though she has not been down my road.
To help her momma cope, Lulu drew an anatomically correct heart without any of the internal lines. Then she added purple, dark pink, & royal blue watercolor. A combo of the two hearts without copyright infringement.
I’m moving the placement of the heart to my wrist which if you think about it, that is where a long sleeve would end. I can still get the heart on my sleeve metaphor. I made the adjustment in placement because I want to see the handiwork all the time once the tattoo is done. No cover up for me.
January 1998, mom in hospice, her best friend came to visit. I stepped out of the room to allow some privacy. But I stayed close by & I overheard mom say “Look after Jill for me. She will struggle with my death & she will need help with the new baby. She has always worn her heart on her sleeve”.
Alrighty, that is all, go talk amongst yourselves. I’m not crying, you’re crying.
This review is non spoiler but bratty. I’m prickly lately so suck it. Oh behave. Anyhoo, this is what I wrote:
Stories within stories. Alternating chapters of then & now by the person talking. A bit disjointed but not sure what else might make the flow better. Maybe cut out one of the stories that was really more filler? I noticed the word liaising or liaised was overused. Find a synonym.
This was a free book of the month for being a Prime member. While not terrible, theses free books prove sometimes you get what you pay for. I did however get quite a few good quotes.
Words are how I process things – yep that is me to a T
I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know; it was like a pact – oh ya another line that is the story of my life & when I’m brave enough to ask, I get an emotional smackdown.
I’m shocked at how angry I feel. Like I could hit something. Like I want justice. Revenge?– I’ve even got my family worried about me, I can’t let go but I need to for my own sanity. Life imitating art – similar but not the same … my anger is more sadness that comes from a completely different source
I wonder if childhood memories are all real or if we conjure some of them from the photographs and anecdote shared – taking it a step further is any memory real? Same situations invoke different memories for different people. I feel unsteady like my whole life was a big fat lie.